


where you're wanted

by Krewlak



Series: don't you know you're all i want under the tree? [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 21:15:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8912239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krewlak/pseuds/Krewlak
Summary: “My mom wants you to come by for Christmas dinner,” Scott says not looking up from his phone. He shifts his feet slightly, feeling more nervous than he has any reason to. It’s just Derek. Derek who came back. Derek who held him so tightly after Scott told him what happened. Derek who still looks haunted sometimes.“Does she?” Derek asks. Scott can practically hear his eyebrow arching. Scott sighs and looks up, giving Derek a bored look. Derek smirks and nods, pushing his shopping cart down the aisle. “Yeah, I can come to Christmas dinner.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd so any mistakes are my own.

“My mom wants you to come by for Christmas dinner,” Scott says not looking up from his phone. He shifts his feet slightly, feeling more nervous than he has any reason to. It’s just Derek. Derek who came back. Derek who held him so tightly after Scott told him what happened. Derek who still looks haunted sometimes.

 

“Does she?” Derek asks. Scott can practically hear his eyebrow arching. Scott sighs and looks up, giving Derek a bored look. Derek smirks and nods, pushing his shopping cart down the aisle. “Yeah, I can come to Christmas dinner.”

 

Scott smiles quick and bright, “Awesome. I’ll let her know.”

 

They continue through the store, quietly walking side by side and Scott likes it. He likes having these quiet moments with Derek. He like that Derek just lets him be. Its . . . its different and great and he can’t remember the last time he was allowed to just exist.

 

“Is there something that I should bring?” Derek asks Scott as they get in line to check out. “For dinner?”

 

“Uh . . . your winning personality?” Scott says with a laugh. Derek rolls his eyes at Scott but there’s an amused little smile on his face that warms Scott’s stomach. “You don’t have to bring anything. It’ll be me, Mom, Stiles, and the Sheriff. It’s not a big deal.”

 

Derek gives him a measured look, frowning slightly.

 

“What?”

 

“You didn’t say Stiles would be there,” Derek says, narrowing his eyes slightly. “I never agreed to spending my Christmas with Stiles.”

 

Scott rolled his eyes and laughed. Stiles had said more or less the same thing when Scott had brought up the idea of inviting Derek to Christmas dinner. Not that Derek needed to know that it was Scott’s idea. Not that it would matter if he did. They’d come so far since Scott was first bitten. But. It was Derek and Scott still wasn’t sure one hundred percent of the time.

 

“It won’t be that bad,” Scott says. “He’s way more mellow during the holiday season. Maybe if you’re lucky, you’ll get invited to his house for the last night of Hannukah. His dad’s latkes are amazing!”

 

“Its Stiles,” Derek says, scanning the few items from his cart, as if that’s explanation enough for something that Scott doesn’t fully understand right now. But he gets it because it is Stiles.

 

“It’ll be fine,” Scott says, clapping a hand on Derek’s shoulder. Derek tenses for a second before relaxing and slightly leaning into Scott’s hand. Scott’s smile falters for just a second. “It’ll be a great Christmas, you’ll see.”

 

***

 

“I swear to God, if you don’t sit down I will strap you down,” Stiles snaps, glaring at Scott over the back of the couch. “He’ll get here when he gets here.”

 

“But what if he changes his mind? What if he decides to stay home?” Scott asks, peeking out the living room window for the tenth time.

 

“Honey,” Mom says, walking up behind him and laying her head on his shoulder. “It’ll be fine. If he doesn’t come then that’s okay. He doesn’t have to.”

 

“But . . . it’s Christmas. He shouldn’t be alone,” Scott says, ignoring the slight whine in his voice.

 

“Pretty sure Derek’s default mode is lonesome, Scott,” Stiles says, flicking through the TV channels. “Man, I know it’s Christmas and all that but does every channel have to be playing a Christmas movie? Overkill, much?”

 

“Tis the season, kid,” the Sheriff says as he sits down on the couch with a groan.

 

“Not our season, dad,” Stiles mutters, turning to look at his dad. He narrows his eyes for a second. “How many sodas is that?”

 

“It’s the holiday season, Stiles, let an old man live a little,” the Sheriff complains, sipping loudly from his Coke. Stiles continues glaring until the Sheriff sighs. “I’ll have an extra helping of greens, okay?”

 

“And no pie,” Stiles says. Scott laughs by the window, feels his mom press a smile to his shoulder. They’ll never get tired of hearing Stiles and his dad negotiate food.

 

“Come on, help me set the table,” Mom whispers, patting his back before she walks away. Scott peers out the window for another second before sighing and turning away. If he comes then he comes. If not . . . then that’s okay too, right? It has to be okay.

 

“You know, it’s nice. That you invited Derek over for dinner,” Mom says as she lays out the plates. Scott follows behind her laying out silverware. They’ve done this so many times before that he’s sure he could do it in his sleep. “But you can’t expect him to just jump back into pack life.”

 

“I know,” Scott says with a nod, adjusting a knife until it’s sitting straight. He doesn’t want to look up at his mom, doesn’t want to see that sad yet understanding smile that’s become a permanent feature on her face. It’s Christmas and, for once, he would like to see her happy smile.

 

“He was gone a long time, Scott,” Melissa says, moving on to folding napkins into birds. Her mother taught her how to do it when she was younger. She had taught Scott how to do it when he was younger, before Dad left, before things started getting harder and harder.

 

“But he came back,” Scott whispers, knowing that the words sound desperate in a way that he hates. “That. That has to mean something, right? That he came back?”

 

“Of course it means something, sweetheart,” Mom says. She steps around the table and wraps an arm around his shoulders. “It means everything but it’s only been a couple of weeks. Give him time.”

 

“I know,” Scott says, nodding along. He sighs and puts down the last fork, grimacing a little at the way the handle is bent. He presses the handle down a little, trying to get it to kind of resemble a fork again. He looks at his mom with a crooked smile. She sighs, rolling her eyes and walks away. “This’ll be my seat.”

 

“Derek’s here,” Stiles shouts from the living. Scott takes a deep breath and leaves the dining room. Stiles has pulled the curtains back in the living room and is staring out the window with arms crossed. Scott steps up next to him and watches Derek sit in his car. “He’s been like that for five minutes, dude.”

 

Scott frowns before heading to the door. He pauses for a second, unsure if he should go out there and bring Derek inside. He shouldn’t push, right? He should give Derek the time and space that he needs. That’s what a good Alpha would do . . . what a good friend would do. And that’s all he wants. To be good to Derek.

 

“Oh my god,” Stiles groans before pushing Scott out of the way and opens the door. He stands on the front step, hands on his hips, looking the very image of impatient. “Are you coming in the damn house or what, Hale?”

 

Scott rolls his eyes and nudges Stiles out of the way so that he can stand with him. He can see Derek sigh before getting out of the car. There’s a frown on his face but Scott knows it's more for Stiles than it is for anything else. Scott can’t seem to help the way his chest loosens and his smile feels a little easier as Derek walks up the path. He has a bag in one hand and the other shoved into his jacket and he looks . . . perfect is the word that comes to Scott’s mind. A word that he quickly erases and scrubs and just. He’s not going there tonight.

 

“Sorry I’m late,” Derek mumbles as he stops in front of them. “I wanted to grab something at the store and there was this crazy line and. Here.”

 

He shoves the bag at Scott, looking down at his shoes. Scott takes the bag and looks inside. There’s a bottle of wine and what looks like a cheese plate. There something at the bottom that Scott can’t really see but he smells the dates and cherries and pineapple.

 

“Fruit cake?” Scott asks with a smirk.

 

“Ugh, gross,” Stiles says, pretending to gag. He grabs the bag from Scott and looks inside himself. “Seriously, who even likes this stuff?”

 

“I do,” Derek snaps. Stiles raises his eyebrows and looks at Scott with an amused smirk. Derek huffs and shoves his hands even further into his jacket pockets. “Its . . . it’s my mother’s recipe.”

 

“Then I’m sure we’ll love it,” Scott says, elbowing Stiles in the side. Stiles groans slightly before nodding along. Scott smiles at Derek, brightly, until Derek starts to smile back.

 

“Are you three ever going to come inside? You do know it’s winter and I am not made of money, right?” Melissa says, poking her head out the door. She looks at Scott and Derek for a second before a pleased smile spread across her face. Scott knows he’s blushing because that’s the smile she gave him when he brought Allison over for the first time and he doesn’t want to think too hard about why she’s smiling at him like that.

 

“Merry Christmas, Ms. McCall,” Derek says politely. His smiles loses a bit more of its awkwardness and there’s that warm feeling in Scott’s chest again.

 

“Merry Christmas, Derek,” Mom says, stepping forward to wrap Derek in a hug. Scott tries really hard not to listen when his mom whispers in Derek’s ear. “I’m so glad you’re home. He . . . we all missed you so much.”

 

Derek looks at Scott briefly and yeah - he’s definitely blushing now. Which is not good and not what he had planned. This was supposed to be a ‘Welcome back to the pack’ starter dinner. This was supposed to be Scott being a good friend and a good Alpha. Scott takes a deep breath, trying to slow his heartbeat which is skyrocketing.

 

“Uh, Melissa,” the Sheriff says, sticking his head out as well. “The timer is going off and I got yelled at last time I tried to touch your cooking. So.”

 

“I did not yell at you,” Mom says with a huff. She heads back into the house, pulling Derek after her by the arm. “I swear, these men think the slightest rebuke is yelling. I don’t yell, Noah Stilinski.”

 

“I’m just saying, if it’s not you then it’s the kid,” Sheriff says, holding his hands up in mock surrender. Stiles gasps in mock outrage.

“I am looking out for your well being and this is how you repay me? Slander?” Stiles shouts, going back into the house. Scott releases a slow breath and follows them all inside. He can do this. It’s just dinner. It’s not that bad.

 

***

 

“Derek this is probably the best fruit cake I have ever had,” Mom says as she takes another bite of cake. Derek can’t hide the pleased smile that spreads across his face and this is why Scott had invited him over for dinner in the first place. “Seriously - I want that recipe.”

 

“I can do that,” Derek says, finishing off his own slice of cake. Stiles is sprawled across the couch, mouth hanging open and snoring. The Sheriff isn’t doing much better, passed out in the armchair.

 

“God, I don’t think I could move a muscle,” Mom groans, dropping her fork onto her plate. She looks over her shoulder into the kitchen and sighs, pouting just the tiniest bit. She turns her pitiful gaze to Scott who just rolls eyes and stands up, gathering their plates. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

 

“Of course,” Scott says, kissing the top of her head before heading into the kitchen to cleanup. Derek follows him into the kitchen, pushing his sleeves up. Scott stares for a second too long before shaking himself out of it. “You don’t have to help clean up.”

 

“You’re not doing all this by yourself,” Derek says, nodding at the sink full of dishes. Derek is already running the water and soaping up a sponge.

 

“But you’re a guest,” Scott says but based on Derek’s raised eyebrow that means nothing. Scott sighs and starts to pour the scraps into the trash can.

 

They work in silence, Derek washing and Scott drying. Scott can hear the Sheriff and Stiles waking up from their post-meal nap. He can hear his mom laughing at Stiles. He was probably drooling or fell off the couch. He can hear Derek’s steady heartbeat and it feels good. It feels right being surrounded by these people during the holidays.

 

“I’m really glad you came to dinner,” Scott says softly without looking up from the plate that he’s wiping down. Derek pauses in his washing, not looking up either, and Scott worries that maybe he overstepped. That somehow he’s ruined this quiet moment between them.

 

“So am I,” Derek finally replies. He clears his throat and continues washing plates. “It’s been a while. You know, since I spent the holidays with family.”

 

Scott smiles when Derek calls them family. He’s not sure that Derek even knows what he said and he’s not going to call him out on it. Especially not when his heart didn’t even blip over the word.

 

“Oh my god, this is too good,” Stiles says from the doorway. Scott turns around, eyebrow raised. Stiles is smirking a little too gleefully, staring at a spot just above Scott’s head. Scott’s stomach drops. There’s no way. They wouldn’t do this him. Stiles must read his face because his hands are up in surrender a second later. “Dude, it’s your house. I did not do any of the decorating.”

 

“What are you talking about, Stiles?” Derek asks with an irritated sigh. He looks up and his heart starts to pound, Scott can practically feel it vibrating through the air. Scott looks up as well and sees the plastic twig of mistletoe.

 

“We don’t have to,” Scott mumbles, refusing to look Derek in the eye. He’s sure his face is the brightest red that it can be. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so embarrassed. “I mean, Stiles is the only one who knows. We can totally act like it’s not even there.”

 

“And have me miss out the opportunity to see both of you turn tomato red? No way,” Stiles says. Scott turns to glare at him. His eyes land on Derek’s bewildered face for a second and that really seals it for him. There’s not way that Scott is going to kiss him now. Not like this. “Oh come on! You know the pack would never forgive me if I let a chance like this slip by.”

 

“So you’re just going to stand there like a creep?” Scott asks with an eyebrow raised. Stiles rolled his eyes and Scott knew that he was probably protesting a little too much but he couldn’t stop. “Besides, there isn’t like a law or something that says you have to kiss under the mistletoe and, you know, maybe the people under the mistletoe don’t want to kiss. What about then, huh?”

 

“And there you go sucking all of the fun out of it,” Stiles says with a groan. He shakes his head and walks back out of the kitchen. Scott checks his heartbeat and is pretty proud that it’s steady. Derek’s on the other hand is pounding out of control and Scott doesn’t know why.

 

He finally turns to the other werewolf, eyebrows raised in a silent question. Derek isn’t looking at him, eyes firmly trained on his shoes. Scott knows he fucked up. He must have somehow. They were fine and then the mistletoe became a thing and that ruined it.

 

“Derek, you know how Stiles can be,” Scott says, trying to laugh the whole encounter off. Derek looks up then, eyes wide and searching. Scott isn’t sure what he’s looking for though. What could he possibly be looking at Scott like that for? “Derek?”

 

“It's just mistletoe,” Derek murmurs softly, still searching Scott’s face. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

 

“I know,” Scott says with an eager nod. “That’s what I was trying to tell Stiles, you know? It’s just a dumb tradition. I mean, we’re werewolves, right? Who even thought having mistletoe around would be a good idea?”

 

His heart is definitely pounding now and he knows that Derek can hear it. He’d have to be deaf to not hear it at this point.

 

“I mean, the kiss,” Derek says finally looking away. He narrows his eyes at the kitchen doorway, probably expecting Stiles to jump out with a camera this time. “It doesn’t have to mean anything but if you don’t want. I just. I would understand.”

 

Scott starts shaking his head halfway through Derek’s sentence. No. No. That wasn’t what he meant at all. He doesn’t even try to put into words just how wrong Derek is, just leans up and brushes his mouth against Derek’s.

 

Its barely even a kiss, just the softest touch of mouths. Scott pulls away just as quickly as he’d leaned forward. He barely opens his eyes before Derek is leaning down and kissing him again and this time it’s a kiss. Scott can feel it all the way in his toes and it makes his skin burn. Derek cups the back of Scott’s head and holds him there for a second, more than a second, a minute, a lifetime.

 

When they finally pull apart, Scott feels lightheaded and it’s fantastic. Derek’s lips are puffy and pink. His eyes are barely open and Scott can’t help the burst of pride in his chest. He did that. He made Derek look like that and he wants to do it again. And again. And again. For as long as Derek will let him.

 

“Merry Christmas, Scott,” Derek whispers, leaning back in slightly to brush his mouth against Scott’s.

 

“Merry Christmas,” Scott mumbles before kissing Derek again.

  
Merry Christmas, indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> Here's part two! And it's late! And I don't care! I hope people enjoy this one as well. <3


End file.
